Every Day Thoughts April
by MissJayne
Summary: A series of oneshots and drabbles about the friendships between our favourite characters.
1. Apr 1

Every Day Thoughts: April

_**April 1**_

**Friendship always benefits. – Lucius Annaeus Seneca**

Tim focused all his attention on the drawer in front of him. It just wasn't going in properly. He only had a small window of opportunity to make this work.

It was April Fool's Day, and he fully expected Tony to come to work prepared to wage a small war on him. After all, he was the Probie. So, this year he had come up with the idea of leaving Tony a little surprise in the spirit of the day.

He had thought long and hard about what he should do. Anything involving computers was out of the question, mainly because the skill and effort involved would go over Tony's head. He had tried to think like the senior field agent before realizing that a simpler plan was likely to be more effective, as Tony wouldn't realize it would be coming.

Thus he found himself in the squad room before any of his team mates were due in, trying to put the contents of Tony's drawer back in while the drawer in question was upside down. He just didn't have enough hands to make this work.

Another hand suddenly appeared on the drawer, holding it in place. Tim slowly looked up at the newcomer to find that it was Gibbs. But he wasn't glaring and there was a twinkle in his eyes.

"I'll hold it, you put everything back," Gibbs ordered.

Tim hurried to obey. It took him several minutes, but it was much easier.

They were both settled at their desks when Tony arrived. Tim watched carefully as Tony dropped his bag, turned on his computer, and reached for the drawer…

"What the…" Tony groaned.

The drawer had emptied its contents onto the floor. Tim grinned and could have sworn her saw a similar grin on Gibbs' face, just for a moment.


	2. Apr 2

_**April 2**_

**When you worry about your future, a friend reminds you of how far you've already come.**

Palmer sat at his mentor's desk, his head in his hands. His mind was awhirl, providing more terrifying images by the moment.

He heard the doors open before he heard the voice. "Now, where did I leave my keys… oh, Mr. Palmer, I wasn't expecting you to still be here."

Jimmy lifted his head up for long enough to spot the keys and hold them in the direction of Doctor Mallard. "I'll be going home soon," he offered.

He heard a chair being drawn up behind him. "What _are_ you still doing here, my dear boy?" the doctor asked.

"Sitting," he replied. "Thinking."

"About?"

"My future."

"Hmm." The doctor's chair shifted slightly; the noise was magnified by the room. "And what were you thinking about your future?"

"I'm not sure I can make it," Jimmy found himself confessing. "I work so hard, but I don't think that I'm up to the standard."

"Nonsense," the older man remarked. "You are the best assistant I have ever had, and I am certain that you will be a remarkable medical examiner in your own right in the years to come."

"Really?" Jimmy queried.

"Now, you need to work on your comments," the doctor reminded him. "Sometimes you say some very inappropriate things, but you have talent! And determination. Both of these will help you."

Jimmy smiled, happy that his mentor had faith in him. He trusted the man, and he would trust him on this.


	3. Apr 3

_**April 3**_

**The difference between a friend and an acquaintance is that acquaintances know the good things about you. A friend knows the good things and the bad things, yet still wants to be your friend.**

"Stupid, stupid elevator," Tony yelled, punching the wall with his hand.

Abby appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. "Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!" she called.

"Is for horses," Tony snapped back at her.

She glared at him. "My lab," she ordered. "Now."

He knew better than to argue with the Goth when she was in a mood. Not many people could boil you from the inside out and not leave a trace. She could be more stubborn than Gibbs at times.

In the familiar environment of the lab, he felt calmer. The low hum of machines soothed him. Abby pointed to a chair, indicating that he should sit down. He couldn't see the harm in it, so he obeyed. His anger was slowly waning, as was the urge to punch something.

"What did the elevator do to hurt you?" Abby demanded.

He sighed. "The Boss must have used the emergency stop one too many times. It stopped between two floors and refused to move."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Is that all?"

"And… I might have had a bad day on top of that, and this just really annoyed me."

"The straw that broke the camel's back?" she suggested, hands on her hips.

"That's the one," he agreed.

She glared at him for a few moments longer, before pulling him into an awkward hug. "Poor Tony," she cooed.

He smiled, feeling a lot better. "Thanks, Abs."

"You know," she began, releasing him. "A run of good luck is supposed to follow a run of bad luck."

He stared at her.

"Or so I believe," she added.

He smiled at her again. He had no idea how he would cope without her.


	4. Apr 4

_**April 4**_

**A true friend is one who lets her bridesmaids wear whatever they want in her wedding.**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was nervous. This was not a common occurrence for him, but he felt he was allowed a day off. It had something to do with him marrying Jenny shortly.

They had bickered for a while over their wedding. He was reluctant to marry in a church again, after his four previous experiences. She wanted something small, with only her friends around. Finally, they had decided to marry on a certain beach in Baja, so that Mike Franks could attend as well and everyone would enjoy themselves.

They had only invited the team, Abby and Franks. Ducky had been asked to give Jenny away and he had readily accepted. The girls had gone into town for the hen night, while everyone else had stayed in Franks' place, drinking the night away.

He let his eyes travel round. The padre was waiting patiently for the service to begin. Tony and McGee stood to one side, both wearing jeans. McGee was wearing a T-shirt, but Tony had spent the morning whining about the heat and had removed his own top. Franks was dressed in his usual scruffy manner, although he had shaved and was not drunk.

Jenny had decided that, as it was a small personal ceremony, everyone could wear what they wanted. Gibbs had not argued, happy at the idea of getting married in jeans.

Abby stood on the other side of McGee, her hair in her customary pigtails. She was wearing a short skirt and a loose top, and had ditched her platform boots in favor of going barefoot. Ziva was dressed in cargo pants and a tank top, and appeared to be the only member of his team who was enjoying the heat.

He turned his head in time to see Jenny emerge from Franks' shack, Ducky on her arm. He vaguely noted that Ducky was the only one in formal wear, his bow tie in perfect position. But Jenny had the majority of his attention. She had a loose blue cotton dress on, with her hair loose around her shoulders. She was barefoot, the same as him. He smiled at her as she reached him.

The padre smiled. "Shall we begin?"


	5. Apr 5

_**April 5**_

**With my friend by my side, I can conquer all the challenges of life.**

"I challenge you to say that to Gibbs' face," Ziva smirked.

At his own desk, Tony paled. "He'd kill me."

Ziva resisted the urge to giggle. It was so much fun to wind her partner up. Especially when it came to Gibbs, who even she found scary, despite her years in Mossad. She would rather redo some of her missions than cross him on a bad day.

"I mean," Tony continued. "He really would kill me. Abby would be forced to get rid of all the forensic evidence."

"Are you afraid of him?" she asked, innocently.

"No," Tony scoffed.

She raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Tony really was afraid of Gibbs; he ended up with the most headslaps anyway. He had worked with the man longer than her and McGee, and even longer than Jenny had, although Jenny was definitely not afraid of her former partner. On the other hand, Jenny was definitely not stupid enough to say what Tony just had.

"I like my limbs unbroken," Tony hissed at her.

Ziva shook her head. Gibbs would not stop at simply breaking a few limbs. Tony really had stepped in it this time. She had a feeling that Gibbs would persuade Ducky to perform a live autopsy if he heard Tony's comment.

Gibbs appeared out of nowhere, as usual, and gave Tony a sharp slap to the back of the head, as usual.

"What was that for?" Tony whined.

"You know what," Gibbs growled.

Ziva winced. Abby might be right; there was no way Gibbs could have heard that comment unless he was psychic.


	6. Apr 6

_A/N: Am heading home for a few days and will have to fight for Internet access. Updates may be slow but I shall try to keep them coming. Review replies will also be slow. Should be back to normal for Apr 10._

_**April 6**_

**My friends, my absent friends! Whate'er I see is linked with thoughts of you. – Letitia Elizabeth Landon, "Night at Sea"**

Ducky stood in his kitchen, watching his kettle boil. He liked to take some time away from the chaos in his life to pay attention to the little things. Watching his kettle was surprisingly soothing in his otherwise silent kitchen.

The noises indicated that he needed to get everything else ready, so he located a teapot that Ziva had given him, and placed a chamomile teabag inside, courtesy of McGee. Pouring the boiling water, he cradled his mug and slowly made his way into the lounge.

The crackling fire in the hearth provided the only light in the room. From his current position, he could head his mother's snores from the next room. A tranquil feeling washed over him; his troubles were placed to the back of his mind.

His eyes swept the mantelpiece. A small bottle with a wooden boat inside sat at one end, a birthday present from Jethro, who had made the whole thing himself, down to the miniature rigging. He loved the gift; it was clear that a lot of care had gone into it.

A photograph next to it was of Abigail with her bowling nun team. The outfit she was wearing always made him smile. It was so like her. A newspaper clipping lay next to the photo frame, showing Jennifer at a conference. She had been the star speaker, and everyone at the Navy Yard had talked about if for weeks.

His tea was now cool enough to sip, so he settled down in his favorite armchair. Tony had bought it for him after an unfortunate disagreement between him and Contessa.

He smiled happily, content to muse on his friends.


	7. Apr 7

_**April 7**_

**I count myself in nothing else so happy  
****As in a soul remembering my good friends. – William Shakespeare, **_**King Richard III**_

Tim sat by the graveside, allowing his grief to wash over him. He tried to make this trip once a year, but sometimes he couldn't make it, and other times he needed to make extra trips.

His fingers traced the words on the headstone. 'Caitlin Todd' it read.

He missed her, even though a few years had passed. She had made an important impression on him, helping him to grow into his job. She had encouraged him when he needed help and helped to keep Tony off his back by bickering with him every five minutes. She had cheered him up when he was down and accepted him easily into the team.

He recalled fighting with her down in the gym. She had forced him to start fighting her seriously, and he still winced when he remembered _that_ knee. But it had helped him out in the field. He was more prepared for any eventuality.

While he still wondered about Tony's taunts, he had always known that Kate meant nothing by them. She had teased him to lighten the atmosphere; she had joined forces with Tony for a little fun.

He smiled softly. His thoughts of Kate were often bittersweet; he had cared for her as a sister. He missed her, and occasionally found himself wondering what she would do in a situation. He thought she would be proud of him if she could see him now.

He climbed to his feet. "See you next year," he promised her.


	8. Apr 8

_**April 8**_

**Like nailing planks to form a bridge, relationships are built with many acts of goodwill; no single incident can undermine a strong relationship.**

"Help!" came the frantic yell from the elevator. "Help!"

Abby smirked as she tottered to the elevator. "Is everything okay, Jimmy?" she inquired.

Palmer stepped into the hallway, looking completely panicked. Abby found herself unable to hold in her laughter. Palmer glared at her. "This is not funny," he groaned.

She pointed to the scalpel that was stuck to his hand. "It's brilliant!" she grinned. Tottering back to her lab, she knew he would be forced to follow her. She snapped a quick picture of him with the implement attached to his fingers.

"I'm guessing this is your fault," he suggested, starting to calm down. "The only other option is Agent DiNozzo, but he tends to taunt McGee more than me."

"It was me," Abby owned up immediately. "I thought it would be funny, and I was right." She was unable to wipe the smile from her face.

Palmer rolled his eyes. "Can you get it off now?"

She pretended to think. "Perhaps."

"Please?" Palmer started to panic again. "Doctor Mallard is going to kill me when he finds out that I fell for this."

"He'll enjoy it," Abby assured him. "I've got some acetone around here somewhere." She started to search her desk.

"He left me in charge while he rescues his mother," Palmer admitted. "Apparently, she decided to walk to the shops."

"How is that a problem?" Abby wondered. "And where is that acetone?"

"She wasn't wearing any clothes and was arrested," he pointed out.

She turned back to him with a wide grin on her face. "McGee has my acetone, after Tony stuck his fingers to his keyboard again."

Palmer looked horrified. "I'm going to have to go in the squad room like this?"

She continued to grin. "Do let me know how that goes."


	9. Apr 9

_A/N: Sorry for the incredibly late update. Everything should be back to normal now._

_**April 9**_

**Fate chooses your relations, you choose your friends. – Jacque Delille**

"Yes, father. No, father. Fine."

Tony slammed the phone down and started cursing at the empty air in his apartment. His father had once again shown exactly how much he cared for his son by informing his only child that he was getting married again less than twelve hours before the wedding.

In one sense, he was glad to learn about this so late. It meant that he didn't have to dig out a stuffy suit, stick a false smile on his face and sit through yet another wedding. He didn't have to endure the presence of his father when all he wanted to do was walk out.

But on the other hand, he wished that his father cared enough about his son to tell him what was going on in his life. He wished that his father loved him, and that he had had a normal childhood. He wished that the only member of his family who was not six feet under gave some sort of damn about him, especially when he put his life on the line every day.

The phone rang again, startling him. Fully expecting it to be his father, he groaned before answering. "Useless son here."

"Tony?"

It was Ziva. He smiled softly to himself. "Ah, yes, sorry about that."

Thankfully, she seemed to know that he didn't want to talk about it. "Abby is arranging a dinner at hers tomorrow night, and she asked me to ask you if you want to attend."

"Sure," he replied.

"I will see you then," she told him, before hanging up.

The smile stayed on his face. He was glad to have Ziva as his friend.


	10. Apr 10

_**April 10**_

**My joy in friends, those sacred people, is my consolation. – Ralph Waldo Emerson**

The day was cold and miserable, while he was running out of elbow room after a series of deaths. His assistant was ill, leaving him to do the extra work himself.

And yet Ducky was not dismayed by this turn of events. It had something to do with the people he had run into today.

He had barely stepped off the elevator into the squad room when he had encountered McGee. The young man had smiled and politely asked him how he was. They had ended up having a delightful conversation about the weather before Tony had arrived.

Tony had cracked a few jokes, making him smile, before the ex-cop started teasing McGee. Ducky had left the two men to it and went to see Abigail.

The Goth had tugged him into a bone-crushing hug, while babbling about how happy she was to see him. Her happiness had warmed his heart. Abigail could make anything better.

Ziva had appeared shortly after, bringing a sample for the forensic scientist to analyze. The Israeli had given him a cheerful smile as she had passed.

When he finally arrived in Autopsy, he had been surprised to see the lights already on. While the tables were all full, Jennifer was busy fixing him a pot of tea. He had been touched by her gesture, and she had offered to try to find him another assistant for the day. He had declined, content to work alone for once.

He had been elbow-deep in his second body when Jethro had stuck his nose around the door to check up on him. They had discussed Tony's latest antics before the Agent had left.

Tired though he was, he knew he could continue because the love of his friends lifted him up.


	11. Apr 11

_A/N: Feb 24 (I think) has a continuation that is being posted under the name Harmony of Opinion..._

_**April 11**_

**Thanks for always believing me when I tell you I'm really, honestly, seriously, truly going to start working out regularly next week. I'm glad one of us has faith in my inner jock!**

"I will go," Tim found himself insisting.

"Whatever you say, McLazy," Tony replied, looking highly amused.

"I know I need to go to the gym," Tim continued. "And I will go."

Tony smirked at him. "Oh, really?"

Tim stifled a groan. He did mean to go. But everything seemed to be conspiring against him. First it had been the flu. Then his publisher had pushed up a deadline, forcing him to miss a lot of sleep as he tried to reach the bar she had set. And after that, he had been so exhausted that he did not want to climb on a bike and pedal until he collapsed.

What he really needed was for his work to suffer. Not too much, but just enough that Gibbs would glare at him. He needed to put himself under pressure to get himself back to the gym. His perfectionist streak would sort everything out.

But the fates were conspiring against him once again. He had chased and tackled a suspect to the ground only yesterday. And the week before, he had ended up on a five mile hike with Ziva so that they could interview a potential witness.

Maybe he could get Abby to help him. If he told her about his problem, she would surely drag him to the gym and order him to exercise. However, he wasn't quite that desperate.

Hence the discussion with Tony. The ex-cop somehow seemed to know that he wasn't actually going to go to the gym, and was happy to play along in his own way. He knew that he wasn't a natural jock, while Tony reveled in that environment.

"I will go to the gym," he promised himself.

At his own desk, Tony nodded. "The Probie will go to the gym," he repeated.


	12. Apr 12

_**April 12**_

**Friendship makes prosperity brighter, while it lightens adversity by sharing its griefs and anxieties. – Marcus Tullius Cicero, "Essay on Friendship"**

"I am confused," Ziva announced.

Across the squad room, McGee gave a long-suffering sigh. "Details," he demanded.

Ziva ruthlessly squashed the urge to break his fingers until he paid more attention to her. Thankful that it was only them in the squad room, she continued. "I give a little money to charity every month," she confessed.

"As do I," McGee replied. "As do quite a lot of people."

She glared at him. "Well, I discovered on the news last night that this charity was a fraud; it was really run by a man who gave the money to fund Hamas."

"And you are not happy about this," McGee deduced. He stopped tapping away at his keyboard to give her his full attention.

She sighed. "I thought the money was going to Israeli orphans," she admitted. "And now I feel bad. As a Mossad Officer, I… have had dealing with Hamas. And it turns out I have been funding them!"

"Unknowingly," McGee added. "I doubt you would have handed that money over if you had known where it really was going."

"So you are saying that I should not feel bad because it was not my fault?" she queried.

"No," he corrected. "You're right to feel bad; it's what makes us human. But you shouldn't blame yourself completely for this. That man is responsible for defrauding you."

She considered his argument for a few moments. "I shall be a lot more careful in the future," she decided. "Thank you for making me feel better."

McGee smiled at her. "I know you would do the same for me."

She knew he was right. Just as she knew that the man who had swindled her would meet a sticky end soon. It helped to have contacts in high places.


	13. Apr 13

_**April 13**_

**The road to a friend's house is never long. – Danish proverb**

Jenny unlocked her car and sat down. Her security detail were not going to be happy to learn that she was sneaking off without them around, but she was sure she would be safe. She was only driving somewhere; she would be protected at her destination.

Smiling softly to herself, she started her car, pleased when it started without a problem. Sometimes it seemed to be cursed… Maneuvering onto the road, she set off.

Half an hour ago, she had suddenly realized that she had spent most of her Sunday off at her desk, dealing with mountains of paperwork. It had dawned on her that other people – normal people – would be enjoying themselves, spending time with people they cared about.

There was only one person that she wanted to see, and she knew his life was as exciting as hers was. Jethro was guaranteed to be in his basement, working on his boat. He would pretend not to be bothered by her presence, but they would both regard the situation as soothing.

Watching him work on his boat was a surprisingly calming pastime. Sometimes he would beckon her over and put her to work somewhere. Other times, he was content to let her observe him. They rarely talked, but it was a comfortable silence. It was as though nothing existed beyond the confines of his basement. They were the only two people left on the planet, and yet they had no cares.

She blinked, realizing that she had arrived, but not recalling the journey. Partly amused and partly puzzled, she stepped out of the car and locked her door. At least his front door was always open.


	14. Apr 14

_**April 14**_

**Good friends never lose sight of each other's interests and always give each other room to grow.**

Abby smiled to herself as she stood in the doorway.

Before her, McGee was typing away, completely focused on his writing. Jazz was playing quietly in the background and the clatter of keys was somehow soothing. The whole room seemed to be at peace.

She felt like an intruder. McGee had invited her back to his apartment after a long few days and a particularly bad case. They both needed some sense of normality for a little while, so they had cooked spaghetti bolognaise together. After stuffing their faces, they had started a little argument about who was to do the washing up until McGee had frozen in place. Concerned, she had asked if he was okay, only to be told that he had suddenly worked out how to get around a current problem in his new book.

She had smiled happily at him, and then pushed him towards his typewriter and ordered him to run with the idea before he forgot it. She enjoyed his writing, as well as being aware of how much he enjoyed it. When he was happy, she was happy.

His method of writing confused her at times, but it was something he was clearly comfortable with. But in the same way that he would never get her to change her techniques in her lab, she left him to his own devices. Timmy would produce another masterpiece, she was sure of it.

Still feeling like an intruder, she stifled her giggled at the look of complete concentration on his face. He was off in his own little world now, and she was content to watch him grow.


	15. Apr 15

_**April 15**_

**By friendship you mean the greatest love, the greatest usefulness, the most open communication… which brave men and women are capable. – Jeremy Taylor, **_**Of the Nature and Offices of Friendship**_

"This is stupid," Gibbs growled.

Jenny had got it into her head that his communication skills needed improving. Her actual words were more like "You need to learn to tell someone when you've been shot, because you probably wouldn't say anything until you collapsed". He felt this was untrue; he could communicate things in an emergency and there was no need for anything else.

At least he was fairly confident she was not trying to change him, just try to prevent him from bottling everything up.

And he had reason to worry. He had complained to Ducky about her plan, only to be told that he needed to communicate better. He knew he communicated well with Jenny; they did not need words to talk. But she had definitely been determined, and he knew how stubborn she could be, so he had caved.

"Suck it up," Jenny retorted, clearly not in the mood.

"How is this relevant?" he complained, slamming the papers down on her desk. Did they really have to do this in her office?

She glared at him. "Ducky spent his weekend putting this all together," she informed him. "He won't be happy if this all goes to waste."

He glared back at her, but it did no good. He really had taught her well. If DiNozzo ever put some effort into learning, he would have a problem on his hands.

"That glare doesn't work on me," she warned. "So suck it up and get this over with."

Rolling his eyes, he obeyed. Sometimes you had to lose a battle to win the war. Maybe later he could communicate exactly how much he hated this idea.


	16. Apr 16

_**April 16**_

**Friends Activity: Volunteer together at a women's shelter. Learn how close you can get through the bond of shared humanity.**

"Ziva!" came the squeal from the lab.

Ziva stepped cautiously from the elevator. Abby always seemed to know when she was on her way down, in the same way that Gibbs always appeared when Abby found something. She forced herself to continue walking.

The Goth was bouncing around her lab, happily nodding her head with the beat of her pounding music. Her pigtails were swinging in the air and she was humming something. In one hand, she held a test tube with some form of plug over the end, which she was shaking furiously.

"Hello, Abby," Ziva greeted her. "I am not here for results –"

"I know," Abby smiled, tottering to her desk and placing the test tube in a rack. "I've had an idea."

"Right…" Ziva continued. Abby's ideas did not seem to come from this world.

"We're going to volunteer at a women's shelter," Abby announced.

"A what? I did not think Americans used shelters in the traditional sense –"

"Not like that," Abby interrupted her confused ramblings. "Women go to these kinds of shelters when their partner has been abusing them."

"Oh," Ziva murmured. "Why do they not kill him?"

The Goth put her hands on her hips. "Ziva! Not all of us are assassins! It's complicated. They love him, but he's beating them up, but he convinces her to stay… its really complicated."

"I will go with you," Ziva decided.

"Are you planning to track down some of these men to kill them?" Abby asked suspiciously.

"Perhaps," Ziva admitted. "But I would also like to help in other ways."

They shared a smile.


	17. Apr 17

_**April 17**_

**Friendship is infinitely better than kindness. – Marcus Tullius Cicero**

Agent Sacks of the FBI was definitely not happy to be in the Navy Yard again. Especially as he had been ordered to arrest a certain Agent Gibbs. His whole team were going to rally around the man to protect him, even though this whole mess was Gibbs' fault. He really couldn't go around punching Senators.

"Agent Slacks!" came a joyous shout as he stepped off the elevator. Sacks didn't need to recognize the voice to know who it belonged to. Only Tony DiNozzo called him by that stupid name.

"Where is he?" he growled, not in the mood for whatever pissing match was about to start. He knew he should have refused this assignment or dragged Fornell along.

Tony put on his best innocent face; Sacks could see straight through it. "He just went out for coffee," came the reply. "He said he'd bring one back for you."

Sacks snorted. That would be the day. Although, thinking about it, he could do with a caffeine jolt.

"You're welcome to wait," Tony offered. "Gibbs' seat is free, if you want to sit down."

Sacks grinned. Tony had just given him a way to annoy Gibbs, if he ever returned from his coffee run. With his luck, Gibbs was probably halfway to Canada by now. He moved over to the chair, smirked at DiNozzo, and sat down.

Instantly, the chair collapsed and he hit the floor. Around him, he could hear the team laughing. He stood up, brushed himself down and glowered at DiNozzo. Reaching for his cell phone, he dialed a familiar number.

"Fornell? I need some help."


	18. Apr 18

_**April 18**_

**Friends are the thermometers by which we may judge the temperature of our fortunes. – Lady Blessington**

Autopsy was always quiet. There seemed to be a stillness, a calmness that didn't exist anywhere else in the Navy Yard. When it was empty, it was a haven.

Tony always found himself in Autopsy whenever he needed to think alone. Sometimes he needed his team mates around him and other times he needed to figure things out by himself. He picked up a thermometer and toyed with it as he continued to muse.

They didn't have a case at the moment, so they had ended up discussing anything and everything while they did paperwork. McGee had bought up his childhood and how he still got on well with his parents. It had hit Tony hard; his father had never cared for him and had made it quite clear. He shook the thermometer slightly.

But the look in Ziva's eyes had reminded him of how lucky he was. He had never met Daddy David, which did not preclude a hatred of the man. Who raised their daughter to become an assassin? Daddy David was definitely not going to win any Father of the Year Awards any time soon.

Tony waggled the thermometer as he continued to think. McGee was open about his childhood, while himself and Ziva kept quiet. And Gibbs?

Gibbs was an enigma. He never spoke of his personal life; for all Tony knew, Gibbs could have remarried. There was no chance of him discussing his childhood.

The doors swished open and Tony jumped to his feet. "Hey, Ducky," he called.

Gibbs glared back at him.

"Hey, boss," Tony corrected himself. "I was just… I'm coming now."

"Might want to leave Ducky that rectal thermometer," Gibbs suggested.

Tony placed the thermometer carefully on the desk. He needed to wash his hands now…


	19. Apr 19

_**April 19**_

**If you want true friends, don't hesitate to show the world the real you. Friendship speaks the language of the heart and reaches out in love to touch the lonely spirit.**

"Yay!" Abby squealed, spying the newcomers to her lab. McGee gave her a weak smile as he ushered the others in. They all seemed nervous and confused.

"I'll leave you with our forensic scientist," McGee told the new agents. "Abby doesn't bite; you'll be fine."

She couldn't resist growling as McGee left her lab.

She loved new agents; they were the people who would shortly become her friends. They always seemed a little nervous around her, which she struggled to understand. She didn't have an extra head, nor did she bite. Her music might be a little loud, but it wasn't going to hurt anyone.

She was faithful and loyal, honest and caring. She loved everyone equally from the bottom of her heart.

"Hey everyone," she smiled, overjoyed to see the faces in front of her. "I know Timmy introduced me and I hope he's been taking care of you… What am I saying? Of course he's taking care of you. He's Timmy; he wouldn't harm a fly, unless it was an evil fly, but none of you are evil…"

Pausing, she took in the slightly less anxious faces before her. Beaming, she continued.

"I do lots of work down here, not that I don't enjoy it but I seem to spend half my life working in my lab, and it mainly seems to be Gibbs who gives me rush jobs but he knows I love him – he's so wonderful and he's just… Gibbs, and he likes to growl and snarl but he's really sweet and would never harm a woman, unless she was evil, which I guess makes him like Timmy, or does that make Timmy like Gibbs?"

The puzzled faces were outnumbered by the grinning ones. She grinned back.

"So, who knows what a forensic scientist does?"


	20. Apr 20

_**April 20**_

**But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,  
****All losses are restored and sorrows end. – William Shakespeare, "Sonnet XXX"**

Ducky sighed as he put down another folder. The Rudd autopsy report seemed to have vanished in the piles on his desk. It didn't help that Mr. Palmer had been trying to reorder the files, leading to a mass of paper covering his desk.

Mr. Palmer claimed there was an order to his, but Ducky could not see it himself. And his assistant had left early to attend an important exam. There was no chance of calling him to ask where the relevant file was. Jethro's team needed the file as soon as possible, but this was going to take a long time.

He sighed again. He really had no idea where this file was. He closed his eyes as he tried to remember where he had left it before Mr. Palmer had destroyed everything. His eyes flew open when the doors made their familiar sound.

"At last," he cried. "Mr. Palmer, where did you place the…" He trailed off.

It was Jethro standing in the doorway, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "Since when did I become the Autopsy Gremlin?" he queried.

"Autopsy Gremlin?" Ducky was not sure of the term.

Jethro shook his head. "DiNozzo's term. He had a nice headache after I heard it."

Ducky sighed again, returning his gaze to his desk. He heard Jethro join him.

"Looks like Jenny's desk," the Agent remarked.

"It's going to take me a while to locate the Rudd file," Ducky warned.

Jethro reached out, tugged a file out at random and dropped it into Ducky's hands. Ducky stared at it for a second. "How did you…"

Jethro shrugged, claimed the Rudd file as his own and headed towards the elevator.

Ducky risked a smile. Abigail was right: the man was magic.


	21. Apr 21

_**April 21**_

**A ho-hum activity that's really fun when done with a good friend: washing the car.**

Tim stared at his Porsche before switching his gaze to the person standing on the other side of it. The last time he had taken his precious car to a car wash, his driver's door had been scratched. Thus he had resolved to wash his car by hand ever since.

This was easier said than done. He needed time and energy, both of which were in short supply to him. He barely had time to breathe between Gibbs' insane working hours that he insisted everyone else keep and his writing at night. Washing his car tended to fall down his list of priorities when he was chasing a serial killer while his publisher left harassing messages about his latest deadline.

Naturally, Tony had found out about the little Probie who didn't have the time to wash his own car, and promptly spent a week teasing him about it until Ziva had stepped in. And it was Ziva who had offered to help him wash his car today. She did not seem to understand why he preferred to hand-wash it, judging by her offer to torture the attendant who had allowed his car to become damaged, but was willing to help him out.

She passed the bucket and the other sponge in his direction, and his thoughts turned back to his precious car.

"Do all men name their cars?" she inquired, sounding curious.

He glanced in her direction. "Not all, but a lot of women do as well."

She looked confused. "Why would you want to name your car? It is not a pet. And why does it have to be a female name?"

He shrugged. "Ask Tony. He could probably tell you everything you need to know, and more besides."

"It just seems a very strange thing to do," she commented. "I mean, I called my first car 'Tito'."

"After the Yugoslavian dictator in the 50's and 60's?" he queried.

"I thought it suited him," she remarked, standing back to admire her handiwork. "What do you think?"

He smiled. His car was perfect. And so was the company.


	22. Apr 22

_**April 22**_

**Cultivating friendship includes courtesy, kindness, and a genuine interest in others.**

Jenny bit her tongue as she pressed the button in the elevator for Autopsy. She had never really liked the place, especially after her disastrous first autopsy. Jethro had never let her live that down.

There were only two reasons she visited any more. The first was that being Director, she could not appear to dislike the place. Appearances mattered in the world of politics, more than the truth. The second reason was that Autopsy was Ducky's domain, and he was enough for her to pluck up her courage and face her demons.

He was a very good friend to her; always willing to lend an ear and keep her secrets. He knew her before she had become the Director, and tried his best to remind her that she needed some fun in her life. A bond had been formed years ago, back when she, Jethro and Ducky had been in France, and the bond still held.

Ducky was genuinely interested in what she had to say. Unlike Jethro, who became bored easily, Ducky would listen intently to every word that she wished to utter. Only then would be give his opinion on the matter, and she trusted his judgment.

He was a kind man, polite and courteous. He accepted everything and everyone, which was part of the reason that he was so good at profiling. He had a story for every occasion, which always made her smile; it was clear that he had lived a full life. And he still did, somehow managing to get stuck into every possible investigation.

The elevator doors opened and she stepped out. Her nervousness was still firmly in place, but she remembered the man she had come to see, which gave her the strength to continue.


	23. Apr 23

_**April 23**_

**The holy passion of Friendship is of so sweet and steady and loyal and enduring a nature that it will last through a whole lifetime, if not asked to lend money. – Mark Twain, **_**Pudd'nhead Wilson**_

Tim smiled as he entered the coffee shop. It was not a normal place to meet up with Abby, but she had been insistent. He ordered a hot chocolate for himself before finding a table from which he could see the whole shop. Gibbs would kill him if he let anything happen to the favorite.

He looked up when Abby entered the shop; in fact, every male looked up as the Goth tottered in. She glanced around the shop, trying to locate him. He grimaced at the sight of the Caf-Pow in her hand. The staff were not going to like this…

She beamed as she located him, before waiting in the queue. He was confused – she already had her drink. He was fairly sure that this place did not sell Caf-Pows and there was little else she would like. He wished he could read her lips as she gave the barista her order.

She tottered over to him, a smile back on her face. Whatever she had just purchased was hidden in her hands, and her eyes twinkled. She knew he liked surprises. She sat down opposite him and revealed it.

It was a chocolate cupcake.

She grinned at him. "Fancy sharing?" she queried.

He grinned back at her, enjoying this moment. "Sure," he replied.

Their fingers brushed as they scrambled for the cupcake. Abby handed the flake on the top over to him before trying to steal more of the crumbs. He laughed at the look of concentration on her face.

When the cupcake was finished, they looked back at each other and smiled. There was nothing to worry about.


	24. Apr 24

_**April 24**_

**To the world we always seem to agree and uniformly reflect each other. – Elizabeth Cady Stanton**

Fornell was not happy to find himself in the Navy Yard again. NCIS, the continual thorn in his side, had managed to get themselves involved in an FBI case again and he had been sent to collect their evidence.

He always seemed to get this job. Someone high up knew of his friendship with Gibbs, and seemed to be under the impression that this smoothed over all problems. In reality, the higher-ups had clearly never run into Gibbs. The man protected his cases in the same way a lioness protected her cubs.

And his team always rallied round the man. He inspired such loyalty in all of them. Trying to get anything out of them was like trying to get blood out of a stone. This was going to be damn near impossible.

The elevator doors slid open and he stepped out. The team he was looking for were gathered around a plasma screen in their usual position. Gibbs was barking out orders and his team were scurrying around, trying to carry them out.

DiNutso spotted him first, shooting him a glare. "FBI, boss," he called, alerting Gibbs to his presence.

He continued his advance, not willing to be cowed by a mere lad. Gibbs came out from behind his desk so that they could go toe to toe.

"Fornell."

"Gibbs."

Their greetings never seemed to change.

"Hear you've got a case which falls into our jurisdiction," he commented.

"Body was found on a Navy base," Gibbs pointed out. "Makes it our jurisdiction."

"Body was an FBI informant," he retorted. "We're taking over."

The glare he received was enough to make him want to run away. The team were slowly advancing, prepared to back their boss up.

"I'll get a warrant," he decided, not willing to remain any longer.

"See you later," DiNutso called jauntily.

Fornell sighed in the safety of the elevator. Perhaps it was easier to get Gibbs alone.


	25. Apr 25

_**April 25**_

**Friendship is a flower that blooms through all life's seasons.**

Saturday. A day of rest. A day for taking some personal time. Not quite as good as Sunday, but still a wonderful day.

Gibbs had never been too fond of weekends, mainly because he used to spend them with Shannon and Kelly. Nevertheless he tried to relax a little, aware that he needed some down time to function well.

For once, he had found his way into the squad room on a Saturday and it was not due to an unexpected case. Although he would not admit it to anyone, he had an errand to run. He had seen Jenny working late the previous night and knew she would come in today to continue. She was more predictable than she liked to believe and he enjoyed being unpredictable.

He moved quickly up the stairs, wanting to complete his mission before she arrived. He did not intend to be caught red-handed; she would hit the roof. Carefully, he opened the door to her office and crept in. If she had arrived early, he did not want her to know of his presence.

He stared at her desk for a few minutes. There were several piles of paper on its surface, each threatening to topple over. A photograph of her father sat neatly on one side. An empty cup of coffee had been left next to her pen.

Taking a few steps forward, he tossed the cup in the bin before attempting to straighten her desk slightly. He placed the single red rose on her desk, right in the center so that she would not miss it upon her arrival.

He left the Navy Yard with a smile on his face. She was going to spend the whole weekend wondering about his flower.


	26. Apr 26

_**April 26**_

**A good friend is someone who knows what's on your mind even when you haven't said a word.**

Abby silently observed McGee from across the squad room. He was slumped at his desk, all alone, everyone else having gone home a short while ago. She knew his work had been completed a long time back.

He had seemed off all day. His usual exuberance had disappeared, leaving him looking tired and depressed – even older. He had not been as quick on the uptake as he usually was, forcing her to slow down her explanations and thus her results. Gibbs had not been happy with this turn of events, although he had not said a word.

McGee began to stir, collecting his belongings together so that he could leave. His actions were slow and methodical; he took his time. She slipped across the squad room, glad that the shadows hid her so well.

Now that she was closer, she could see the stress lines in his face. His eyes were almost dead; it scared her. She had never seen him like this in all the years she had known him. Something was very wrong with him.

Finally, he caught sight of her. He seemed surprised at her presence, which furthered her worry for him. Normally, it was very difficult for her to sneak up on him. He stared blankly at her for a few moments.

"What's wrong, Timmy?" she asked, her voice low.

He took his time to answer. "Nothing."

She glared at him.

He sighed. "My father called me last night. My grandmother is back in the hospital."

He looked lost, leading her to envelope him in a tight hug. She did not bother to tell him that everything would be fine; they were both aware it would be a lie. She waited until he had relaxed before speaking again.

"Go see her," she whispered. "Gibbs would order you to go."

He nodded. "Thanks," he whispered back. "I'll call you when I arrive."

Abby watched as he walked out. Although times were hard for him, she was confident he would bounce back.


	27. Apr 27

_**April 27**_

**I can spend a giggly night shopping till I drop with you, come home empty-handed, and feel like I've had the most successful night on earth. Your company is worth more than sale-priced designer shoes!**

Jenny laughed as she fell through her front door, Ziva by her side. It had been a long day and an even longer evening, not that she was complaining.

It had been Ziva's idea, oddly enough. The Israeli had spotted a sale on at her favorite shop and had practically dragged her around. They had spent most of their time in shoe stores, staring wistfully at all the offers and chuckling as other women fought over them.

They had only decided to leave as the stores closed around their ears. Stumbling back to their cars, they had barely noticed their empty hands. It was not until Jenny managed to close her front door through a fit of giggles that she noticed this.

"What?" Ziva inquired, as she found herself giggling harder.

The redhead fought for control; it took her several minutes. "I've really enjoyed myself," she finally admitted.

"So have I," Ziva added. "What is so funny about that?"

"But we haven't even bought anything!" Jenny grinned.

Ziva smiled back. "We do not need to spend our money to enjoy ourselves," she noted. "Although Tony would disagree with that."

"Movies cost money," Jenny commented. "Hot chocolate?"

"Please."

Jenny continued to smile as she pottered through to her kitchen, searching for her mugs. She felt Ziva enter the room, although she did not hear the assassin. There was still a faint bond between them from the time they had been partners, leading them to work well together even though times had changed. It took her a few minutes to put everything together before she handed a mug to her friend.

"To a good night out," Jenny offered.

Ziva smiled. "To friendship."


	28. Apr 28

_**April 28**_

**What can be sweeter than to have a friend to whom one may venture to confide all things as to one's self? – Marcus Tullius Cicero. "Essay on Friendship"**

"Ducky, Ducky, Ducky, Ducky, Ducky!" Abby squealed as she scurried into Autopsy as fast as it was possible to in her favorite platform boots. "Ducky!" she added for good measure.

She watched as the doctor looked up from the corpse he was examining. "What is wrong, my dear?" he inquired, smiling softly.

Abby sighed. "Just having a bad day. Major Mass Spec had a hissy fit this morning, which means I have a huge backlog of work. Then the Caf-Pow machine broke, so Gibbs couldn't bring me any caffeine goodness. I'm living on decaf."

The smile she received from Ducky warmed her heart.

"My hearse got another flat this morning, leaving me to get the Metro, and there was this weird man staring at me the whole way. Timmy forgot to greet me this morning, and the vending machines only have chocolate with nougat. I hate nougat."

Ducky stood up straight and removed his gloves.

"Now Gibbs and his Gibblets have been called out on a case, leaving me all alone with no company. And my EAAS is on the blink. Timmy can fix it, but he's not here, and I really need to use it."

Ducky moved to her side and enveloped her in a hug. She allowed herself to relax for a few minutes, basking in the care of the older man.

"Just because today has been a bad day, doesn't mean tomorrow will be," Ducky told her as he loosened his grip. "I can spare Mr. Palmer for the rest of the day. Take him upstairs and keep him busy."

Abby beamed. Perhaps this day would improve.

* * *

[EAAS – Electrothermal Atomic Absorption Spectrometer; if anyone is at all interested in the strange things I study]


	29. Apr 29

_**April 29**_

**Friends are the nearest relations. – Proverb**

Ziva put down the phone and sighed. Her apartment was warm yet silent. Talking to her Great Aunt was always tiring.

She was no longer what her family thought she was: a merciless assassin. Sure, she was still capable and happy to kill a man with her bare hands, but she was now more aware of her actions. And she had friends, not simple colleagues. They cared for her and looked out for her.

Growing up, if she had cried, her family told her that she was weak and she should never cry. Here, if she cried, Abby would draw her into a big hug and refuse to let go until she felt better. Growing up, if she had injured herself, her family expected her to carry on. Here, if she became injured, her friends put pressure on her to rest and recover while they helped out in every way possible.

She ran her fingers through her hair, lost in thought.

When her friends realized she was upset, they would cheer her up. When she was lonely, they would spend more time with her. When she was happy, they were happy for her. When she was bored, they would entertain her.

And vice versa. She cared for them, all of them, and they cared back. It was completely different from her family, who were indifferent to her. They kept in touch out of courtesy, not because of any love. If she died tomorrow, her family would come to the funeral because of a sense of duty, while her friends would come to grieve her passing.

The phone rang again, startling her. She glanced at the caller ID before answering.

"Hello, Tony," she smiled.


	30. Apr 30

_A/N: I wrote this the week before Tim recieved his parcel on the show. I started cursing when I watched it._

_**April 30**_

**Friendship is a special package to be handled with care, to be gratefully acknowledged, and whose value we should always esteem.**

Tony ran his fingers over the package in front of him. It was not his – he had stolen it from McGee's desk. It was completely unfair that the Probie had received something instead of him.

What had the Probie received anyway? Possibly it was an Internet purchase, knowing how obsessed McGeek was with the World Wide Web. Or it could be something from his family, but surely they would have sent it to his apartment? Perhaps it was related to a case in some way.

Tony patted the box gently. It was rectangular, wrapped in brown paper, bound with string, and addressed to 'Special Agent T. McGee'. He placed his ear to the side and shook it gently. Not a sound. Whatever it was, it was securely packed. It was also fairly light was well.

He was now officially curious. What on earth was in this package? The Probie was being mysterious again, secretive even. He could always persuade his little ninja Mossad chick to get it out of McGee, but he would prefer to figure this out on his own. It was his curiosity that had been piqued and the Probie would not outwit him. Computers would never take over from street-smarts.

He slowly reached for his knife, determined to open the package. McIdiot would never know that he had been inside. He ran the knife carefully along the edge…

"Morning, Tony," McGee called as he entered the squad room.

Tony stifled a groan. "You got a package," he offered. "Just keeping it safe."

McGee smiled. "Thanks. I've been waiting for that for a while."

Tony smiled back. He was going to have to get Abby to tell him what it was now.


End file.
